


Perchance

by primeideal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Community: rarepair_shorts, Creepy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Summer Wishlists 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magic_knickers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=magic_knickers).



> Prompt: "perchance to dream."

_Tom_ , she writes,  _I'm scared._

 _There's nothing to be afraid of_ , he writes back.

_But. I thought I saw something about skeletons...Is the Heir going to kill me, Tom?_

_There's nothing to be afraid of_ , he repeats.  _Death can, after all, be defeated._

_Ways to get around death? That's impossible! Everyone up there is terrified._

_They do not know what I am capable of—what anyone might be capable of. Someday, I think, they will understand. Soon._

_Then why have you brought me here?_ She's not really sure where she is, only that Tom has guided her here, Tom has been within her—not quite alive but far more than dead. Easier to keep writing, keep trusting in the familiar.

 _There is magic in this place, magic yet to be carried out._  But he is weak—can he rely on her? He has to. It has worked out, so far.  _You can help me._

_I don't know how._

_It's all right. Keep writing._ He needs something more, more than the child's struggles with schoolwork, her gossip about her brother, even her deluded, wild fears. Something deeper.  _How are you?_

_I'm still a little scared._

_Tell me, Ginny. What do you dream of?_

_Dreams? I dunno. I guess I'd like to pass my classes and play Quidditch for Gryffindor. And fall in love and get married and have kids someday..._

So banal, and yet, the longing... _Love seems a little early, doesn't it? Didn't you say you'd never had a friend like me?_

_I haven't. But you're just a book._

_Just a book? I will show you, Ginny, I am more than a book. You will see. But tell me, what do you dream of at night?_

_I don't know. Sometimes birds, singing. But I don't dream very often._

_People dream every night. They simply can't remember most of it._

_Really? I didn't know that._

_It's true. And so it is with all of life—time can pass you by, even if you do not remember it._

_There have been times—even during the day—when I forget where I am, where I'm not sure where I've been the last few hours. I don't know what's happening._

_It is magic—magic you cannot understand quite yet. Even then when you cannot see me, I am closer to you than ever._ And for some reason it is knowing  _this_ that thrills her, sends life coursing through her and into his diary, feeding him. The time draws closer.

_Will I ever get to see you, Tom? In my own time, not just your pages?_

_Of course you will. Very soon. Living beyond time—beyond death—all this, and more, is in my power._

She picks up the quill to write again, but the pages of the book are slowly waving, as if turned by an unseen hand or caught in an underground wind. Then, slowly, there's a sketch on the page—standing up, out of the paper—taking on color—growing into a young wizard.

Ginny gives a quick breath. "Are you—"

"Real, yes," he whispers. "But now it's time to dream." Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. "Close your eyes. There's nothing to fear."

She rasps for breath, already blanching, and by the time Tom lays her down her skin is pale and thin like a new page.


End file.
